


Wabi-Sabi

by merlypops



Series: Beautiful Words - 5SOS Stories [13]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Haters on Twitter, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Keek, Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mashton, Past Suicide Attempt, Twitter, based on Ash's "Individuality" keek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 02:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2293850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merlypops/pseuds/merlypops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Ashton remembers how his smile softened then and he pressed a gentle kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead, and Ashton remembers how the tiny, sad sigh that escaped Michael hurt him more than the hate online <i>ever</i> could.'</p><p>
  <b>Michael can't see how wonderful he is and Ashton does his best to change his boyfriend's mind.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wabi-Sabi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [youknowmeas_el](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youknowmeas_el/gifts).



> This whole fic was based on how moving I found the meaning of the word I used for the title, and how Ash's latest keek gave me MAJOR feels because I could identify with it so much.  
> Link to the video: http://www.keek.com/!By6keab  
> I hope you guys enjoy this and I'm sorry for the angst!  
> Also I _think_ this is my first ever Mashton so let me know how it went? Thanks!  
>  Enjoy!

**wabi-sabi**

_the act of finding beauty in life’s flaws and imperfections, and accepting them as they are_

 

Ashton Irwin remembers how much it floored him when he walked into the hotel room he was sharing with Michael Clifford and found him crying in the bathroom.

He remembers immediately dropping everything – like, _literally_ , Ashton had cracked his phone dropping it on the tiled floor and not even _cared_ because Michael had _needed_ him – and he remembers crouching down nearby, close but not _touching_ because sometimes Michael didn’t want that and Ashton remembers how much he wanted to avoid making Michael uncomfortable (or, he should say, _more_ uncomfortable, since the younger boy had then begun frantically attempting to dry his eyes with the sleeves of his too-big black jumper.)

Ashton remembers adjusting his position so that he was sitting cross-legged nearby instead, and he remembers opening his arms hesitantly and not moving until Michael gave a muffled little sob and shuffled forwards into the drummer’s arms.

“What happened, Mikey?” Ashton remembered asking hesitantly. “You didn’t… you didn’t cut again, did you?”

He remembers how Michael’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment even as he shook his head, and Ashton remembers knowing it was the truth even _before_ Michael roughly pulled his sleeves back and displayed the faded scars covering the insides of his wrists. Ashton remembers feeling bad then even though he hadn’t _really_ done anything and pressing a gentle kiss to one of Michael’s arms, and he remembers how Michael fought not to start crying again then, even though it had been _clear_ that he wanted to.

Ashton remembers pushing his new glasses back up his nose from where they had been sliding down and threading a large hand gently through Michael’s newly-dyed red hair. He remembers softly repeating: “ _Mikey_ , what happened?” and the way Michael released a shaky breath and struggled to regain some composure.

Ashton remembers when Michael’s expression became closed-off as he finally regained control, and Ashton remembers how much that hurt to see.

“It was _stupid_ really,” Michael had said after a long moment, and Ashton remembers being impressed that his voice had barely wobbled at all. “Just… I don’t know. There’s so much fucking _hate_ on Twitter. _So_ much.” Ashton remembers how he faltered and then looked up at Ashton, his green eyes wide and wet again. “Why do I get so much _h-hate_ , Ash?”

Ashton remembers how his boyfriend’s voice cracked.

“Because the haters just don’t _understand_ you, Mikey,” Ashton had said, kind of talking without really _thinking_ about it because, for the most part, he was focusing a rapidly-increasing anger that some _arseholes_ online had hurt Michael ( _again_ ). “They’re ridiculous and _jealous_ and they don’t know what they’re missing. You’re _amazing_.”

“I’m not though, am I?” Ashton remembers Michael mumbling as the mask he was wearing slowly began to crack, and Ashton remembers how – suddenly – there was a torrent of words flooding out of Michael’s mouth and he was powerless to stop it.

“I can’t sing as well as you guys and I always fuck up my guitar solos. My hair looks stupid half the time and I’m everyone’s least favourite and I can’t do anything right to save my life and I cut and I’m fucking _fat_ and – _and_ –”

Ashton remembers leaning forwards and pressing a gentle kiss to Michael’s lips, knowing after so long in a relationship that words simply _wouldn’t_ help. He remembers being aware that, when Michael felt like this, when he was in _denial_ like he clearly was then, he wouldn’t change his mind for anything.

Ashton remembers how Michael was stubborn like that. He remembers thinking that that was something he loved about him.

(Ashton remembers how it still is.)

Ashton remembers deciding he was going to say something to Michael anyway, even if it _was_ a waste of breath. (Except, Ashton was trying to help Michael and that was never, _ever_ a waste because Michael was everything. Michael was Ashton’s _world_ , even if he didn’t see it himself.)

“I think you’re beautiful and amazing,” Ashton had said like he was commenting on the weather. “I think people say you can’t sing as well because they’re jealous of you, and I don’t think you mess up your guitar solos all the time. I can honestly only remember one time and that was because Cal poured a fucking bottle of _water_ over your head –”

Ashton remembers the enormous relief he felt when Michael’s lips twitched into a faint smile at the memory, and Ashton remembers continuing to talk, heartened now.

“– and your hair _never_ looks stupid. It’s so bright and colourful, and I think it’s _amazing_ that you express yourself like that. I mean, seriously, Mikey, that’s _incredibly_ fucking punk rock. Like, I practically have _ringlets_ and now you’re over there with hair like fucking _Gerard Way_ , except more awesome?! It’s hot, dude!”

Ashton remembers how his smile softened then and he pressed a gentle kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead, and Ashton remembers how the tiny, sad sigh that escaped Michael hurt him more than the hate online _ever_ could.

“I don’t think you’re anyone’s least favourite, Mikey – I think the _real_ fans care about _all_ of us and they’re not picky, even if they _do_ prefer my luxurious hair or Luke’s stupidly adorable smile or Cal’s puppy dog eyes or how fucking _gorgeous_ you are, okay?”

Ashton remembers how his heart sank then as he remembered Michael’s next words.

“Cutting doesn’t make you worthless and neither does having an eating disorder. Like… you’re just trying to cope with all this shit in the only way you know how, yeah? And you haven’t given up trying, Mikey – that’s fucking _brave_ if you ask me. And like… you’ve done _so_ much right and you can’t even _see_ it! I mean… I’ve seen you talking to the fans when we get a chance to meet them – you’re so _kind_ , so fucking _sweet_ and… and, _dude_ , you’ve saved some of their _lives_ and like… if you can’t see how that’s _amazing_ of you then… then I think I need to reiterate my previous points.”

“Do you even know what ‘ _reiterate_ ’ means?” Michael had mumbled and Ashton remembers his half-hearted squirming as Ashton tickled him lightly. Ashton remembers how Michael turned and pressed a soft, warm kiss to Ashton’s collarbone, exposed as his Slipknot tank was slowly sliding down one shoulder. “Do you remember that quote, Ash?”

“What quote is that, Mikey?” Ashton remembers asking softly, just cuddling Michael close as he slowly began to relax in his arms.

“Real bands save fans, real fans save bands,” Michael had mumbled into Ashton’s neck, and Ashton remembers how his heart swelled in his chest as Michael snuggled closer, apparently trying to hide his face from Ashton as he spoke. (Ashton remembers letting him because he just wanted Michael to feel _comfortable_ again.)

“I just wanted to say that I think maybe that’s true… Like, I know it was you that found me and -  _my god -_ am I ever going to be grateful for that one day when I finally get my head out of my arse but…”

Ashton remembers frowning when Michael’s voice trailed away then – and fighting not to show how much Michael’s words hurt him because it might have happened three years ago but it still felt like it was _yesterday_ – but he remembers how Michael continued before he could talk.

“Ash, I know it was you that saved me… you and Luke and Cal… but I think they kind of did too? Like… when you showed me all of their tweets and messages and shit afterwards… I…”

Ashton remembers how Michael’s voice trailed away again as his eyes gleamed with unshed tears, and Ashton remembers how he kissed him then, slow and steady and warm, like a promise.

“I think I know what you’re saying,” Ashton remembers replying truthfully, quiet for a few moments. “Like… like they weren’t afraid to send love and messages and stuff, even though some people who didn’t understand might have judged or misunderstood or whatever?”

Ashton remembers how Michael flinched then, but nodded too, although there was still a faint frown on his face. Ashton remembers mirroring the look perfectly, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully as he sat there on the cold floor, mulling it over.

“Like… that was them standing up for something and not caring what anyone thought, wasn’t it?” Michael had said slowly, finally meeting Ashton’s gaze and holding it, emerald green on bright hazel. “That’s kind of… brave…”

“I wouldn’t call it _brave_ ,” Ashton had said slowly, although he wasn’t _one hundred_ per cent certain it wasn’t. “Just… they still saw how beautiful you were, see? Despite all the shit you’d suffered through… and like, you came out of the other side and… I don’t know… They see flaws and imperfections and – for the most part – they accept them, don’t they? And the ones that don’t… Well, they’re not worth even _thinking_ about.”

Ashton remembers how his voice wobbled then because he had just reminded himself of that _fucking_ hashtag, but he remembers how Michael’s fingers stroked the tattoo on the outside of his wrist gently and how he pressed another kiss to Ashton’s lips, and Ashton remembers how the tight knot in his chest loosened as Michael finally straightened up.

“I love you, Ash,” Ashton remembers Michael saying, his cherry-red lips pulled up into a smile that was more calm than sad now. “I mean, I _really_ fucking love you. You know that, right?”

Ashton remembers how light he felt then, like Michael kept him floating.

“I love you too, Mikey. So, _so_ much,” Ashton had responded before he suddenly thought of something. “Go get changed into something comfy and get Netflix set up, okay? You can pick what we watch and we can order some room service if you feel up to it. I’ll be through in a minute.”

Ashton remembers how Michael stood up but lingered in the doorway, frowning slightly. “Sure, of course. Sounds really nice actually and I’ve been meaning to show you ‘ _White Chicks_ ’ for a while but…” He remembers how Michael trailed off in confusion when Ashton eased his phone out of the pocket of his skinny jeans and opened an app. “What are you doing?”

“Just wanted to make a video for Keek quickly. It’ll only take a second,” Ashton had promised, and he remembers how Michael had shaken his head fondly as he left the room, quietly shutting the bathroom door behind him as Ashton thought for a few moments before he began to speak.

“I see a lot of stuff around on twitter and stuff, like people hating on each other, and all this _bullshit_. I don’t know. If there’s one thing I could have done when I was… I’m not a teenager anymore and that fucking _sucks_. Like, I’m _twenty_. But I wish I could have been more myself when I was back at school and stuff. And I wish I wasn’t scared of doing that and it’s _hard_. But, you know, it’s just such a cool thing, and you’ve got your individuality and it’s the _best_ , you know?"

Ashton remembers thinking that, sure, maybe that wasn't _everything_ he wanted to tell them but it was a start and it would have to be enough for now, because Michael still _needed_ him and Ashton needed Michael too.

Ashton remembers how Michael flew at him and kissed him hard when the older boy emerged from the bathroom, and Ashton remembers realising how Michael must have heard him speaking and taken it to heart.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Michael had muttered into his ear in a fierce little voice as he wrapped his arms around Ashton and carried him to the bed. (Ashton remembers how he decidedly did _not_ squeak then even if Michael’s strength _did_ still surprise him sometimes.)

“That’s good,” Ashton remembers whispering like the idiot he was before he pressed a kiss to the corner of Michael’s mouth and began to pepper them down his neck, whatever movie Michael had chosen for them to watch on Netflix long forgotten. “Because I love you too.”

Ashton remembers how Michael’s small smile against his lips was the best thing he’d ever felt.

“I love you _so_ much,” Michael had repeated in a whisper then, clinging tighter. “I don’t even have _words_ for how much I love you.”

Ashton remembers how he kissed him again then, because he didn't have words for it either.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope this was okay!  
> I know I said I wasn't going to write anything else today but I now have a lot of nervous energy to dispel and this was like my only outlet...  
> Was it okay? Please let me know with comments and kudos!  
> Thank you! :)


End file.
